


No Room At The Inn

by epeeblade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early holiday crackfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Room At The Inn

**Author's Note:**

> This time, I get to blame [](http://affinity8.livejournal.com/profile)[**affinity8**](http://affinity8.livejournal.com/) who said about a romance novel plot: " I could totally write that story, but I would make it a Dean Winchester mpreg story" and then let me have the bunny. Also, thank you to [](http://lapillus.livejournal.com/profile)[**lapillus**](http://lapillus.livejournal.com/) for the beta!

"Sorry man, we're all filled up."

Sam blinked at the crusty looking man on the other side of the motel desk. The Wayward Inn was the last hotel left in this entire town, and it was so late that trying to find another place to sleep was out of the question. Not with Dean in his current condition, and the snow storm that threatened, large cold flakes already dotting across the black finish of the Impala.

"Are you serious?" Sam blurted before his mouth caught up with his brain. He waved his arm towards the one story building, a few of the windows boarded up, rust leeching down from the gutters, and the well-worn roof that was rapidly being covered with snow.

"Davidson family reunion. They get together every year round the holidays."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course they do. Is there anywhere we can stay?" Normally, he and Dean would try to tough it out in the car; it wouldn't be the first time the Impala sheltered them through a rough night. However, now things were…different. He couldn't let Dean spent a night like this in the car. "Please? There's a blizzard coming. We don't take up much room, my brother and I can sleep in a storage room or something."

The guy rubbed a hand over his cream-colored beard. "You know, Ted Lafferty has a cot set up in his garage, other side of town. He might let you wait out the storm there."

"Great. Thanks." Sam turned and made his way out to the parking lot. Dean, despite Sam's request that he not get out of the car, leaned against the Impala, staring up at the night sky, his hand on his lower back, probably in an attempt to work out the perpetual ache he complained of. Of course, being nearly nine months pregnant would do that to a man. Sam still couldn't figure out how Dean could stand up without falling over.

"Dude," Sam said, "You're not gonna believe this, there's no room at the inn."

Dean pushed himself up away from the car. "Motherfucker," he muttered.

"I thought fucking had nothing to do with it."

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?" Dean snapped.

"You're the one who went on and on about being re-hymenated."

"Yeah, well I didn't expect the actual angel groping to occur."

Sam pulled open the drivers' side door – he'd been doing all the driving once Dean's belly got too big to fit under the steering wheel. "Get in, there's a garage on the other side of town with a spare bed."

"Great, how are we gonna explain this?" Dean pointed to his extremely gravid stomach. It had gotten to the point that Sam had to sneak his brother in and out of motels at night. He couldn't pass as a fat man any longer, Dean looked too obviously pregnant, especially with the soft mounds that grew on his chest. Sam had commented on the new breasts once and only once, and he rubbed his chin in remembrance of Dean's right hook.

"You'll stay in the car," Sam said.

"Can we stop for some pie first?"

At least Dean had gotten over his pickle phase. Sam shuddered, never wanting to smell lemon meringue and pickles again. They managed to find a convenience store still open, and Sam stocked up, not knowing if they would be snowed in or not. Already the snow stuck to the blacktop, making driving through the quiet town hazardous.

Sam saw the sign for "Lafferty's auto repair" just a shade too late, and skidded into the empty parking lot. No lights shone through the windows, but Sam tapped on the door just to be sure. He went back to the car to help Dean waddle over, and let his brother hold the flashlight while he picked the lock.

Once inside, Sam flicked on the light switch, relieved to feel the warmer air. At least the interior garage was heated. He opened up one of the bay doors and left Dean to pull the Impala inside, out of the wet snow, and so she wouldn't be a beacon to anyone passing by that someone had stopped at the garage. By the time he pulled back in and shut the garage doors, Dean had found a pile of car seats, in various stages of upholstery. He lounged on a vinyl bench seat, his legs propped out, one hand on his belly.

"How about some of that pie, Sammy?"

Sam pulled the grocery bags out of the backseat and tossed Dean one of the packaged pies from the convenience store. He left his brother to eat – something Dean did a lot of normally, never mind while pregnant. A rusted brown Dodge Charger blocked his sight of the office, and Sam nearly missed it. Inside he found the tiny cot – nowhere big enough for Dean's bulk right now – and a microwave and coffee pot. Well, at least dinner would be warm.

"I think you're going to have to sleep out here," Sam said, carrying out Dean's duffel to the bench seat. "More room."

"I don't give a shit where I sleep as long as this place has a fucking bathroom. Help me up."

Sam refrained from sighing, after all, he couldn't possibly know what Dean was going through. He held out his arms for Dean to brace himself against, and again marveled at this – Dean had a baby inside of him. He ached to touch the curve of Dean's belly, marvel at the tiny kicks beating against his fingers, but he knew Dean would never let him get away with it. Sam settled for copping a feel as he helped Dean to his feet, hoping the baby decided to move at just that moment. Not just a baby, he reminded himself, Dean carried the hope for humanity, a child given to him by an angel.

"Christ, Sammy, let go, I can take a leak myself." Dean pulled away.

Sometimes Sam wondered about God's sense of humor.

While Dean kept himself busy in the bathroom – hopefully he had found one and didn't end up using a convenient bucket – Sam pulled out the sleeping bags from the back and set about making himself a comfortable nest on the cold concrete floor. Dean could have the bench seat, and Sam would just take one of the half-finished cushions for a pillow.

"Sam! SAM!" Dean bellowed.

Sam dropped the cushion and tripped over the duffel in his haste to find his brother. When he staggered to the bathroom, a half hidden door behind the office, he found Dean on his knees, holding on to his belly. "Dean! Dean, are you all right?"

"Do I look like I'm all right?" Dean snapped, before biting his lip and groaning in pain.

Sam knelt beside him, fingers clenching, but not sure what to do. "Are you, do you think you're in labor?"

Dean didn't answer for a moment, just took some deep breaths. He reached out with one hand and Sam grasped it, squeezing tightly. "I don't know. I think I can get up now."

"Let's get you back to the seat," Sam said.

Halfway there, they had to stop, Dean wracked with shudders. "It feels like my insides are splitting open," he gasped as Sam managed to get him onto one of their blankets.

"Take off your pants," Sam said.

"What?"

"I'm not gonna look! If you're going to have the baby now, he'll need room to come out…" Sam stepped away. "I'm going to go boil water." He all but ran to the office where he snapped open his cell phone and dialed Bobby.

"Yeah?" Bobby's voice came down the line.

"Bobby!" Sam cried, relieved. "Dean's having the baby."

Silence came down the line. "And you thought I was the best person to call about that?"

"Bobby, I don't know what to do. We're in a garage in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. He's in labor. I have a coffee maker to boil some water in, but I don't know what to do with it after I boil it…"

"Sam, do me a favor and slap yourself. You're panicking, you idjit."

Sam pinched his nose and attempted to calm down. "Right."

"I guess taking him to the hospital is out of the question?"

Even if Dean weren't a technically dead pregnant man, Sam doubted they would be able to get anywhere on the snowy roads. "Yeah," he told Bobby.

"You're gonna have to deliver the baby yourself, then."

"I was hoping you weren't going to say that," Sam took a deep breath. "Fine, I'll do it. I just have a question…what the hell is the boiled water for?"

Sam made his way back to Dean, Bobby's laughter ringing in his head. It wasn't his fault he had no idea how to deliver a baby; there weren't exactly any books on where babies come from if the mother happens to be male. He shuddered, the last thing he wanted to consider was how exactly that baby was going to make his way OUT of Dean.

When he saw the tall figure standing next to his brother, Sam nearly dropped to his knees in relief. The angel responsible for all of this had finally shown up. Well, at least he had some sense of responsibility. Sam wondered how exactly one sued an angel for child support. He stalked forward, not wanting Castiel to sense his uncertainty.

"It's about time you showed up."

Of course, not a speck of emotion shattered that angled face. "I know my responsibilities, Samuel," he said.

Strongly implying that Sam didn't know his. Before they could argue any further, Dean – who had covered himself with one of the blankets - cried out in pain and Sam dropped to his side. "Dean? What are you doing?"

Dean had pursed his lips, breathing deeply through his mouth, almost as if he were hyperventilating. "What does it look like? Lamaze."

"You've never taken a Lamaze class in your life."

"What? It's just breathing, like I can't figure it out from TV?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue further, but Dean sprang up, hand on his belly. His eyes were squeezed tight. "Cas, tell me you brought the epidural."

Castiel knelt before them. "All will be well." He lifted the blanket covering Dean's legs.

The last thing Sam remembered was leaning over to look. That's when everything went black. Later he would swear up and down that Castiel had put the mind whammy on him so Sam wouldn't see how the mystical baby got born. Dean would just shake his head and say, "Dude, you totally fainted."

Sam opened his eyes at the sound of a baby's cry. It reminded him of a kitten in a pet store he had seen as a kid, so unlike what he expected Dean's kid to sound like. Then the wailing started, and Sam smiled. He pushed himself up, his vision slightly fuzzy and his hand wobbling as Sam crawled over to where Dean curled up against the car cushions, a tiny bundle in his arms. Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

"Is that?"

Dean held the baby up, "Say hi to your Uncle Sam. Heh, Uncle Sam."

"Shut up." Sam stared at the infant. It squirmed in Dean's arms, tiny fists waving in the air, as if protesting the indignity of being held like this. Sam traced his fingers against the soft skin, marveling at how massive his hands looked against the tiny person. "Holy shit, dude."

"We should have picked up diapers at the store." Dean said. "She'll just have to make due with your boxers."

"My boxers? Wait a minute? She?" Sam sat back on his heels. "It's a girl?"

"It is the 21st century, Sammy. Savior of the world can be a girl you know. Say hi to Grace."

"As in God's grace," Sam murmured.

Dean snorted. "Grace Slick, dude. The whole experience was definitely one hell of a trip."

"It's not over yet. She's gotta grow up first."

"And luckily she has a daddy who already knows how to use a sawed off."

Sam laughed. "And has an entire arsenal in the trunk."

"That too."

They weren't ready for this; Sam hadn't expected the baby to arrive for another few weeks. Sure, he had a few things he had tucked away in the trunk of the Impala – a stuffed bear, a rattle, and a tiny pair of motorcycle boots he just couldn't resist. However, he hadn't stocked up on anything practical – no diapers, no bottles, no formula or even a place for the baby to sleep. Maybe he should have held a baby shower for Dean, once they had found out exactly why he started throwing up every morning for a month.

Stupid angels and their secrets plans.

"Dean, we don't have anything for her," Sam said. Dean had tucked Grace against his chest, one hand cradling her head, his thumb brushing her forehead in soothing motions. "I can't get to the store in the snow."

"Don't worry. We've got plenty more pairs of your underwear to use for diapers." Dean grinned at him, before turning his gaze on his daughter.

Sam shook his head at that -- his brother was a father. Well, technically a mother, either way, Sam couldn't believe it.

"And I've got the food thing covered." Dean didn't look up, and Sam refrained from commenting. He just made a mental note to make himself scarce once Dean started breastfeeding. "Plus, check this out." He nodded over to the bottom half of the bucket seat from some kind of sports car, before placing the baby in the curved cushion, swaddling her with an old towel. With a soft motion of his hand, the seat rocked gently, and Grace gurgled to herself. "Instant cradle."

"She's already more comfortable in a car," Sam rolled his eyes. "Definitely your kid."

***

The rustling of a key in a lock had Sam standing with his knife in his hand before he had even woken up completely. Dean stirred from his nest of blankets and met his eyes. "I'll check it out," Sam said.

He followed the noise until he found a back door to the garage, and Sam cursed under his breath, wishing they had actually taken the time to secure the place last night. Unfortunately, childbirth had gotten in the way.

Sam watched the doorknob turning with a bit of impatience. It looked like whomever was on the other side had no idea how to use lock picks. Finally, he just reached out and pulled the door open, the person on the other side stumbling to the floor in shock. Sam grabbed the kid and slammed him up against the wall. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Dude, chill out," the kid said, or tried to say. He was currently having some difficulty breathing as Sam was leaning on his throat.

A girl shrieked and Sam looked over. Two other teens stood in the doorway, a girl with purple hair and large librarian glasses, and a scrawny looking guy in a Dr. Seuss hat.

They didn't exactly look like demons, but you could never be sure. "Christo," Sam murmured, and was relieved when no one's eyes turned back. He let the kid he was holding onto breathe a bit – black bangs fell into the kid's eyes, and he looked like he wore makeup, eyeliner at the very least. "Who are you?" Sam asked again.

"I'm Phil Lefferty. My Uncle Ted owns this place."

"We just come here to practice," the girl put in.

"Practice?" Sam asked.

The guy in the hat held up a guitar case. "Our band. The Wailing Shepherds."

"Drew writes all our songs," Phil put in.

"And your uncle lets you practice in his garage during blizzards?" Sam asked.

Phil looked away. "Well, not exactly."

Hence the poor attempt at lock picking. Sam stepped back. "I won't tell him you were here," he said.

"Thanks."

"Who are you, anyway?" the girl asked.

"I'm Sam," he said, as if that explained everything. They'd learned that if you acted like you belonged somewhere, few people would question it.

Before anyone could say anything else, the sharp cries of a baby filled the air. Grace must have woken up with all the commotion. Sam could feel his face heating at the sound of being caught out. The girl pushed past him into the main area of the garage.

"Omg," she squealed at the sight of Dean standing over his daughter. "It's just like that guy said."

Sam didn't doubt that Dean had just hidden his gun at the sight of the three teens. He raised an eyebrow at Sam, who just shook his head. He had no clue what was going on.

The girl knelt at the side of Grace's makeshift crib, the bucket seat that rocked when you touched it. "We met this weird dude in a trench coat, just hanging out on the road."

"I thought he was high on angel dust or something," Phil said.

Drew shook his head. "Thought he said he was an angel."

"And he said we'd find a baby in a bucket," Phil put in.

"Bucket seat." The girl rolled her eyes. "She's adorable."

Dean knelt next to her. "How'd you know it was a she?"

"Guy said." She shrugged. "Poor thing, we made her cry. Sorry man."

"Maybe we could play something? Babies like music, right?" Phil looked hopeful. He was probably still worried Sam would tell on them.

"Depends," Dean said, picking up Grace and cuddling her close. "What kind of music do you play?"

Sam leaned over towards Phil. "If you say anything but 1970s rock, prepare to be disappointed."

"Dude, Punk was totally founded way back in the 70s." Drew bounced on his toes. "And the Wailing Shepherds is all about punk!"

"Please, no Iggy Pop," Sam sighed.

The girl sat back and pulled a set of drumsticks out of her pocket. "Hell no. How about some Blondie?"

Dean stroked the tiny tufts of blonde hair on Grace's head. "Sounds good. I'm all about educating my girl with the classics."

Sam could see it suddenly, Dean and his daughter, debating the merits of Led Zepplin over AC/DC in between hunts, driving along the never-ending highway in the Impala, still running. Sam tried to see himself in there, wondering what he could teach his niece, what he could offer that Dean couldn't. Well, he thought, Dean would need a second pair of eyes to follow Grace if she ever managed to go on any dates. He looked over, watching Dean snuggle with their girl while the teens set up, and marveled. Yeah, he thought, he wanted to be there for every moment of that.

He moved to sit next to Dean while the kids set up their instruments, and to his surprise, Dean handed Grace over to him. "You gotta support the head, like that. She's not a football, Sam. There you go."

Grace blew bubbles between her tiny lips, and Sam couldn't help but smile down at her. "Dean, this is insane."

"You're telling me dude. I say we make tracks as soon as the set's done. I don't want to wait around for any wise men shown the way by OnStar or something."

Sam laughed. "That is the kind of day we're having isn't it?"

"Seriously, Sam." Dean started, then stopped and bit his lips before looking away. "We ready for this? Savior of the world is drooling on your shirt right now."

"I don't think anyone's ever ready to be a parent. With or without the fate of the world hanging over our heads." Sam shrugged as best he could with an infant in his arms. "I do know one thing," he said, just before the teens started banging out the beginning notes of "Call Me."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"We are so headed for Bobby's after this."

Dean laughed. "Soon as the kids finish playing. Do you think they know Aqualung?"

Sam groaned. He looked down at Grace, who seemed happy with the music choice, her arms waving underneath one of Dean's flannel shirts. It was only the beginning of their lives together. Something swelled inside Sam's chest, and for the first time since this all began, he began to hope for the future.


End file.
